


Alfons Heiderich Journal Excerpts

by nochick_fics



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, Diary/Journal, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: A collection of journal excerpts written by Alfons Heiderich.





	1. August 17, 1922

**Author's Note:**

> Started this forever ago. Would like to add more eventually. Timeline is approximately one year prior to the start of CoS.

No rocket rambling today.  There's something else on my mind.  

Ed and I had a fight. Not in the literal sense but still, it was bad. Bad enough for him to talk about leaving. He didn’t though, thank goodness. Now instead, he’s upstairs asleep as I write this, most likely hogging the bed like he always does. I know it’s only been a year, but if he left me now… well, I’m not quite sure what I would do.  

I suppose it’s my fault, at least to some extent.  It didn't help that both of us drank more than usual tonight.  But even so, sometimes I just get so irritated with his constant rambling about “home,” this mystical place where alchemy, of all things, fashions the world. Come on, how silly is that?   Normally I can take his tall tales with a grain of salt, but I guess tonight just wasn't one of those nights.  Plus I've been a bit tired lately, which definitely didn't help. 

I think what annoys me most of all is that he almost acts as if his life here with me is temporary. Something to tide him over until he finds whatever it is that he’s looking for out there. Is that all I am to him, a convenient way to waste time? Is that all that every moment, everything between us… is that all it means to him? 

I don’t know. I just don’t know. All I do know is that I hate the idea of him seeing me as something less than real. Because I am real. My work, my feelings, my heart--none of those things are some figment of his imagination. When we make love... How can that not be real?  
  
Oh well. What else can I do except continue to entertain his outlandish stories of alchemic adventure? In the end, I suppose it’s not all that big a price to pay to keep him.  And I do want to keep him.  I want him right here, with me.  But if by some miracle there was a real chance that he could leave me and go back to that other world, maybe I would change my mind and let him go.  If I could, maybe I would even help him.  But I'll believe it when I see it, and I'll worry about it then.  As for right now, I just want to go upstairs and wrap myself around him.   
  
Wow, that was embarrassing to write.  Thankfully no one else will ever read this.   
  
I think that’s about all I needed to say for now. I’m off to bed to get some rest, since I think I’m coming down with something.  
  

Alfons Heiderich


	2. August 24, 1922

Funny, the way so much can change in such a short period of time.   
  
It's been a week since Ed and I had our little debate. There wasn't much in the way of a resolution, even though we did kiss and make up. We made up a lot. It was nice.   
  
I think we've reached at a point where we'll silently agree to disagree. I believe that's the way it will have to be between us, at least for now. Sure, he'll continue to talk about this Risembool place and I'll smile and nod my head while he does and everything will be as it should be. What else can I do? To deny that part of him is to deny him, and that's something that I won't do. Not if it means losing him. He means too much to me, crazy stories and all.  
  
I still catch myself considering the idea that this other world is really real. I can't believe I said that I would let him go if it was--there's no way in hell would I do that. I do have to wonder if he would choose to stay, although I'm not sure if I want to know the answer. But in the end it just doesn't matter. All I need to know is him, sitting right beside me, poking me in the side and telling me to hurry up so we can drink.   
  
I love him. So much that I can't stand it. So much that it breaks my heart... because I don't think I just caught a cold like I first thought.   
  
But I suppose that's a story for another time.  
  
  
Alfons Heiderich


End file.
